There were days out at the track when there was no scheduled racing and these were good times. There were no rules and do whatever you like.
Usually such times are for practice (i.e. screwing off because you can), tuning, running-in motors, etc. You have time to try different gear ratios to get the biggest bang out of the corner or highest speed at the end of the straight. Do it get and nail both problems. Do it wrong and finish last in the next race.
There were practical reasons for doing it but this also show-and-tell because no-one really gets it with go-karts by looking at them. All alone in a garage, a go-kart looks like a toy for a child ... that can run at 130 mph. It won't tell you about the 130 mph speed until you start it and then you won't be surprised. The motors will scream like nothing you ever heard in your life. There's nothing on a go-kart except four tiny little wheels and two ridiculously-overpowered motors.
Mortals drove karts with a single motor and these were the ones my brothers and I raced. The twins were for the Gods of Olympus and they were too. Maybe some remember Pearl Gamble and who knows how a man comes by such a name but, sure as hell, everyone knew it. He was one of the Gods of Twins. So was my ol' Dad and they raced all the time but were great pals off the track. So it was with the Gods of Twins.
Practice days at the track were a time when my ol' Dad could bring his graduate students out there so they could take a turns and get to feeling racer-ish. These were young studs from various different countries and they were crackerjack smart, mostly.
(Ed: only males?)
Yep.
Before you get testy about sexism, how many women do you know with a deep love of fruit flies??
Naturally, we resented the graduate students because we were the young studs and anyone who wants the title is going to have to go past us. However ... my ol' Dad knew this and, sure as hell, that's why he sent Doc and I out to the track at the same time as one of his students. My ol' Dad had no truck with poofy and, if he thought you needed to come down a few steps, he was just the man to do it ... or we were.
Our intrepid graduate student is out there turning laps and we watch until he starts getting cocky.
Doc and I look at each other and he says, "He thinks he is fast."
I nod which tells him, let's show the upstart some speed.
Ol' Dad definitely knows we won't behave out there but he would have hated it if we were well-behaved. I didn't raise you to be sissies. Where are the police cars??
(Ed: we delivered on police cars as well ... but that's a different story)
We got swatted hard if he busted us for something but there's still part of me thinking that was punishment for getting caught.
So, ol' Dad starts up two karts, one each for Doc and I. Things were going much better by this time as there was an abundance of go-karts, so much so that it took a station wagon and a trailer to move all of them.
There we were, Doc and I, pacing each other around the track (as in driving side by side) and we stalked our prey. He was opposite us on the track and we held our speed to match his so we could watch him ... and time our move.
We pulled up some more to get the distance right so we were in position the next time he pulled onto the main straight. The Intrepid Graduate Student has his foot deep in the throttle as this is the straight and, man, I ain't scared. Bring it.
Our Intrepid Graduate Student reaches about midway down the straight when Doc and I pull onto the bottom of it only we were full-bore before we ever came out of the corner. By the time the Intrepid Graduate Student is nearing the corner at the end of the straight, Doc and I are screaming down the straight, motors roaring, and we are not held down by a weight handicap for a race. This is as fast as they go.
The Intrepid Graduate Student makes his glorious move in the corner at the end of the straight and this is grand driving because it's a high-speed turn and it feels so testosterone to be hitting it hard.
Unfortunately for the Intrepid Graduate Student, this was the same time Doc and I hit the corner, absolutely flat-out in full racing drifts (i.e. sliding), having backed off on acceleration for just a moment but then hard back into it again.
We appeared from nowhere on each side of the Intrepid Graduate Student in the middle of his grand corner, motors screaming and running like flaming bats out of hell. He probably didn't even know until then we were on the track.
We knew the terror this would inflict but we were young, we were evil.
What else could he do. He freaks, throws his hands up in the air, and spins off the track. We never even hit him.
Another triumph for the Fraser Brothers, the only missing note is Lotho to complete the triad. He was there. He was watching too, learning the styles. His time was yet coming.
(Ed: were you punished?)
Hell, no. Ol' Dad was laughing. He was evil too. Graduate students he can find aplenty but my boys did that. Yep, we did. And he laughed.
Usually such times are for practice (i.e. screwing off because you can), tuning, running-in motors, etc. You have time to try different gear ratios to get the biggest bang out of the corner or highest speed at the end of the straight. Do it get and nail both problems. Do it wrong and finish last in the next race.
There were practical reasons for doing it but this also show-and-tell because no-one really gets it with go-karts by looking at them. All alone in a garage, a go-kart looks like a toy for a child ... that can run at 130 mph. It won't tell you about the 130 mph speed until you start it and then you won't be surprised. The motors will scream like nothing you ever heard in your life. There's nothing on a go-kart except four tiny little wheels and two ridiculously-overpowered motors.
Mortals drove karts with a single motor and these were the ones my brothers and I raced. The twins were for the Gods of Olympus and they were too. Maybe some remember Pearl Gamble and who knows how a man comes by such a name but, sure as hell, everyone knew it. He was one of the Gods of Twins. So was my ol' Dad and they raced all the time but were great pals off the track. So it was with the Gods of Twins.
Practice days at the track were a time when my ol' Dad could bring his graduate students out there so they could take a turns and get to feeling racer-ish. These were young studs from various different countries and they were crackerjack smart, mostly.
(Ed: only males?)
Yep.
Before you get testy about sexism, how many women do you know with a deep love of fruit flies??
Naturally, we resented the graduate students because we were the young studs and anyone who wants the title is going to have to go past us. However ... my ol' Dad knew this and, sure as hell, that's why he sent Doc and I out to the track at the same time as one of his students. My ol' Dad had no truck with poofy and, if he thought you needed to come down a few steps, he was just the man to do it ... or we were.
Our intrepid graduate student is out there turning laps and we watch until he starts getting cocky.
Doc and I look at each other and he says, "He thinks he is fast."
I nod which tells him, let's show the upstart some speed.
Ol' Dad definitely knows we won't behave out there but he would have hated it if we were well-behaved. I didn't raise you to be sissies. Where are the police cars??
(Ed: we delivered on police cars as well ... but that's a different story)
We got swatted hard if he busted us for something but there's still part of me thinking that was punishment for getting caught.
So, ol' Dad starts up two karts, one each for Doc and I. Things were going much better by this time as there was an abundance of go-karts, so much so that it took a station wagon and a trailer to move all of them.
There we were, Doc and I, pacing each other around the track (as in driving side by side) and we stalked our prey. He was opposite us on the track and we held our speed to match his so we could watch him ... and time our move.
We pulled up some more to get the distance right so we were in position the next time he pulled onto the main straight. The Intrepid Graduate Student has his foot deep in the throttle as this is the straight and, man, I ain't scared. Bring it.
Our Intrepid Graduate Student reaches about midway down the straight when Doc and I pull onto the bottom of it only we were full-bore before we ever came out of the corner. By the time the Intrepid Graduate Student is nearing the corner at the end of the straight, Doc and I are screaming down the straight, motors roaring, and we are not held down by a weight handicap for a race. This is as fast as they go.
The Intrepid Graduate Student makes his glorious move in the corner at the end of the straight and this is grand driving because it's a high-speed turn and it feels so testosterone to be hitting it hard.
Unfortunately for the Intrepid Graduate Student, this was the same time Doc and I hit the corner, absolutely flat-out in full racing drifts (i.e. sliding), having backed off on acceleration for just a moment but then hard back into it again.
We appeared from nowhere on each side of the Intrepid Graduate Student in the middle of his grand corner, motors screaming and running like flaming bats out of hell. He probably didn't even know until then we were on the track.
We knew the terror this would inflict but we were young, we were evil.
What else could he do. He freaks, throws his hands up in the air, and spins off the track. We never even hit him.
Another triumph for the Fraser Brothers, the only missing note is Lotho to complete the triad. He was there. He was watching too, learning the styles. His time was yet coming.
(Ed: were you punished?)
Hell, no. Ol' Dad was laughing. He was evil too. Graduate students he can find aplenty but my boys did that. Yep, we did. And he laughed.
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